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the more pious members of her church feel about gays, but she just hugged me and said it didn’t matter. If anyone at her church ever said anything about it, she never let on.”
    Drew closed his eyes as he got lost in his memories. “When I told Katherine, she just patted my hand and told me she loved me. She said what the hell did it matter anyhow? I was still the same grandson she’d loved since I was born.”
    He could hear Chance’s breathing hitch, but Drew kept his eyes closed. “Sally’s gonna take it hard, though. We lost my dad’s cousin Jackson a couple of years ago. He was a cop, and he was killed in the line of duty. He barely got to meet his son before he died. Another blow is going to be hard on her.”
    He took a deep breath and opened his eyes again, meeting Chance’s gaze once more. “So, Chance, if you’re looking for me to say that it’s okay, that I don’t blame you, well… I’m sorry, can’t do that. Not because of me… because of them.”
    Chance stared at Drew for a moment longer and then nodded before he stood, grabbed the untouched tray, and left the room.
    Drew stared at the closed door, wondering if anything he said had gotten through to Chance. He hoped so… even if it was just enough that he’d find some way for him to be found afterward.
    Drew shuddered at the thought of being left to rot in these woods. He knew it wouldn’t matter once he was dead, but it still bothered him. He’d always expected to be buried in the little cemetery at his Grandma Sally’s church, where generations of Edwardses had been interred.
    It felt so weird to be thinking about his death this way. He wondered if he should be saying a final prayer or something.
    He smiled as he realized how much he’d been thinking about church and God. He hadn’t been since he’d come out. He didn’t want to risk being rejected and causing a scene there, seeing as how it was so important to his grandma.
    He figured being this close to death made it all right for him to contemplate what would come after. He didn’t believe God hated gays. He didn’t think a God who was supposed to be so loving and forgiving really cared who Drew slept with, as long as he was a good person.
    He wasn’t ready to die yet. He hadn’t had time to follow his dreams yet. He wanted the chance to win a Pulitzer Prize or write a best seller or two. He’d never even been in love.
    The thought made him angry. He stood up and started to pace, putting the precious picture in his pocket.
    It wasn’t fair. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he knew it was a stupid one, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t deserve to die because he preferred cock. It wasn’t something he’d asked for, but he wasn’t ashamed of it either.
    Drew walked over to the bed, tore off the sheets and blankets, and threw them onto the floor. He tried flipping the bed over only to discover it was bolted to the floor. For some reason it made him even angrier.
    He walked over to the chair and started to kick it, screaming in rage.
    When the chair gave a satisfying crunch of broken wood and came loose from the floor, he smiled.
    It probably would have made sense to sit and wait for someone to come and investigate so he could hit them and make a run for it, but Drew was past any kind of reason. And in his heart, he knew he didn’t stand a chance anyway.
    He picked up the broken chair and started beating it against the wall until it splintered in his hands.
    Holding up a jagged piece of chair leg, he briefly considered plunging it into his chest and making his death his own. At least that way, he’d spoil their fun.
    As he stood there contemplating suicide, his chest heaving with exertion, strong arms encircled him from behind, holding him fast.
    While he’d been throwing his tantrum, Chance had apparently come to see what was going on. Drew struggled against him, but it was no use. He couldn’t break away.
    “Are you going to stop if I let you go?”